Eyes from Venus Ch1
by Smillee
Summary: This is an up in coming story...


**What I wanted to say (ch. I)**

When I picked Dylan up from the Airport, I couldn't think straight. Those whole 3 months fell upon me all at once; almost as heavily as the Seattle rain that fell flat to the ground. I couldn't breathe. I thought about his face, as I waited in the car outside of the airport and of those eyes, sent from Venus herself. He came out with his luggage. I saw him and was overwhelmed. At first, I couldn't move. I was too busy contemplating on what to say and how to say it. I snapped back for a while, and pulled out my umbrella. I opened the car door and ran around the car, leaving the door open just to get to him. Dropping his luggage, he picked me up into his arms and swung me in the air, almost as if I were weightless, spinning me in one complete circle until he lowered me to the ground. By then I had dropped my umbrella. We were soaked. I helped him with his luggage. When I slammed the trunk, he, dripping, looked at me and he leaned in for a kiss. I, pretending not to notice it, turned around and headed into the car. He did the same on the passenger's side. We finally made it into my small green Volkswagen Bug. I sat in the driver's seat, crying inside, dying inside, and the water that drenched my hair dripped into the seeps of my jeans. I smiled with a small smirk on my face, trying to pull off a satisfied look, and trying to hold in the tears. I fastened my seatbelt. I attempted to look at him for a millisecond; Successful. Tried to make our eyes miss each other; Failure. It burned to look into his eyes. So, I snapped my neck back to looking out the windshield. I could feel him looking at me. He reached over the cup holder and aimed to unbuckle my seatbelt; Successful. He leaned in more and kissed me on my neck. While he was doing that, I closed my eyes, praying to the heavens that God could somehow rewind time up until I made my big mistake. Due to the lack of affection I showed, he grew annoyed of how I was trying to avoid him. Usually, I would be all over him right now, personally making sure that the windows were covered in fog and pale white. But something inside kept me from guiltlessly loving him. He gave up on kissing me and he put his hand on my thigh, and started rubbing it.  
"I missed you, babe", he said.

All the while, I, in shock, just decided to continue staring out the windshield. I took in one big gulp but I still couldn't meet his eyes. I could swear that he saw the distraught look on the side of my face. I just starred out, looking for something to find that would grab ALL of my attention so it wouldn't be awkward; Failure. As the rain began to lighten up, I tightened my hands on steering wheel. I couldn't look at him in his eyes. It would hurt too much. The first time I tried that, it felt like the guilt was squeezing my heart; taking the life from me, taking me from him. What would I tell him? How could I tell him? When would be the appropriate time to tell him that he couldn't love me anymore because loving me, or at least trying to love me, would hurt him. I thought for sure that I was going to be able to keep it a secret, at least until the right time. But what would have been the right time?

"Aren't you gonna speak? Naydeen? Hun!" Dylan said aggravated.

I could no longer play the staring game with, well, the windshield. I wanted to tell him that I missed him too, and that I loved him. But then I came to understand that love was commitment, and loyalty, and promises, and it definitely did not include hooking up with his best friend. In my mind, love was waiting, and holding on until the very end; whether it meant 3 months or 3 years; that love was admitting the wrong and praying to God that he would forgive me; It was understanding that what I did was wrong and that if I loved him I couldn't bare hurting him by telling him the truth, but it was that it was hurting him by lying as well.

Subsequently 10 seconds after he sat there, waiting for me to say something, I turned to him. I cleared my throat and I unknowingly raised my eyebrow, the same way I did when I have something to admit or something bad to say. Once again, my eyes caught his and it burned, and my heart literally hurt. For those moments, I couldn't breathe. I hated myself so much.

"I missed you too, babe" I said as I caught my breath. After I said that, he smiled. His smile was the one thing that I both loved and hated as well. His smile made me remember that night with Brett.  
It was about two months after Dylan had left to go to the other Washington, you know, the Capital of the United Stated, Washington, DC. I remember we had just finished watching Superbad with Angie and Stephen, some of our friends. Angie and Steve had been dating for about a month but they were pretty serious. They started kissing each other and decided to leave 30 minutes before the movie was even over. We knew where they were headed: to Steve's car, or Angie's house. When they left, they cleared the couch and we both decided to get on the empty couch. I put my head on his shoulder as I got more comfortable in my Snuggle. I placed my feet on dad's coffee table. When the movie was over, Brett said, "Well, I'm glad that's over," and he smiled, just like Dylan did after every movie we watched together. He hated watching movies, and I'm guessing so did Brett. That night was the first time we did our dirty deed. Brett attempted to get up and change the movie. But, I, admiring how much Brett reminded me of Dylan, opened my legs and grabbed Brett by the his belt (which was really unnecessary, seeing as how his pants hung off his ass all of the time). I pulled his pants hard enough to make them slide down a little so that I could see that he had on blue boxers. He pulled them back up. I laughed and so did he. He turned around and fell in between my legs. The laughs became quiet as his face was parallel to mine. His eyes were brown, too, and his breath smelled like orange Tic-tacs just as Dylan's did right before a kiss. I leaned in for a kiss, and Brett actually answered it. I remember him lifting me up by my asscheeks, and I shrieked a little, and he smiled. He climbed up the three steps that separated the Pit/Living room and the dining room. He placed me on the dining room table and he, still between my legs, kissed me on the lips very modestly. He assisted me with taking off my sweater. I then remember unbuckling his pants as my feet dangled off the table, I pulled the belt out of the loops in one gesture and his pants fell to the floor. He, at the same time, took off his sweater while I "helped" him with his belt. He wasn't buff but he was built, not too skinny, but not chubby, at all. He was, in other words, almost perfect. It was different because, unlike Brett, Dylan was built and ripped; he made his goal to break new records in the Gym. I lifted his wife-beater up to observe his pecks. I smiled, and he laughed, again.  
"Are you sure you wanna do this, Naydeen?" he asked.  
I desperately answered, "Sure, Dy-Brett", and I caught myself just in time before I ruined the moment.

We were teenagers, and not even love could overcome our hormones. He pulled off my _Cheer! _shorts all in one movement and I was still on the table! He picked me up by the asscheeks once more and we headed to the kitchen, through the kitchen was the hallway, and from the hallway was my room. He slowly opened the door with my back, slightly pushing me into the door. We kissed, and frequently stopped for air. I remember he gently placed me on my bed and walked over by the closet to flip the light-switch. I looked at the clock that was on my night stand; it was 9:03 pm. From there, it happened. After it was all over, Brett kissed me on the forehead, just like Dylan did after every time we had sex, and he headed out of my room. I could see the outline of his body in the darkness in from of the hallway light. I just sat there in the bed, with my face in my knees, rocking back and forth, crying; crying until my eyes burned from the overloaded salt-like solution that dried on the top of my cheeks. I heard his car purr and I saw the lights come in through my window as he backed out of the driveway. I looked at the clock and it was 9:25 pm. Those 20 minutes were the worst. I mean, it's not that Brett was bad in bed or anything; just that it wasn't Dylan and that was the worst part about the night. I immediately felt guilty. That was the first time that we had sex together; unfortunately, it wasn't the last time.  
I snapped back into reality as I looked Dylan in his brown eyes.  
"How was DC?" I asked.  
"It was great but it sucked because neither you nor Brett was there", he said.  
A tear fell down my face. He noticed me crying. He wiped the single tear streak from my face.  
"What is it, babe?" he asked.  
"Nothing," I lied, "it's just that I missed you so much, ya know?"  
He smiled and kissed me on the forehead. I wanted to tell him. I couldn't. How could I tell him that his best friend would soon become his most hated enemy? I was lonely when Dylan was gone, and I missed him; and a part of Brett reminded me some much of him (and maybe that is, or was the reason that they were best friends). I couldn't help it. I admit it wasn't Brett's fault; he was just there, and he understood. He was looking out for me as Dylan asked. Maybe that's not what Dylan intended when he said "look out for me". Brett was there when I needed him most during those long three months. It just...happened. I can't say that it was an accident because, deep down inside, it wasn't like we fell on top of each other, and hated it, or that our lips accidentally touched, or that my tongue was serendipitously in his mouth and it wasn't like we accidentally ended up in my room, on my bed. I turned forward and started the car up, the radio was playing quietly and I punched it off. I was angry, and sad, and felt guilty, and I was dying inside. I shifted the gear from park to drive and drove off. I headed toward interstate 405 and the ride home would be the most awkward drive of my life, and possibly his too. I planned on telling him after his Welcome Home party. It was a plan.


End file.
